


Carpe Noctem

by Sachiro



Category: Death Parade (Anime), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Flashbacks, Future Angst, Introspection, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Amnesia, Thinly Disguised Meta, character introspection, future fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sachiro/pseuds/Sachiro
Summary: A single, life-changing encounter leads Yuuri to a mysterious bar. Within, he's roped into playing a game against a familiar stranger with his life on the line.





	1. Welcome to Quindecim

**Author's Note:**

> Carpe Noctem (Latin) — "Seize the night"
> 
> The Death Parade AU that no one asked for but everyone is getting. ;D It's not a requirement to enjoy the fic, but if you're curious what the setting of the AU entails then you can check out the 12 episode anime or the OVA called Death Billiards.
> 
> This idea just slapped me in the face one day and instead of getting my usual "I should throw this idea at someone else to get them to write it", I had the burning desire to write it myself. So here we are!
> 
> A special thank you to the wonderful [Ingthing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ingthing) for betaing my work! :)
> 
> This first chapter is mostly an intro chapter but I'm very excited to share this AU with everyone, I hope you enjoy! :D

Yuuri heard the soft ping of an elevator.

The doors opened and he found himself stepping out into a dimly lit foyer, golden light shining down from above and reflecting off the mirror-like floor. A hallway led past the entryway, veering off to the left before Yuuri could get any kind of hint as to where he was. It was certainly not a place Yuuri could remember stumbling upon in Detroit – especially not during a nighttime run.

Yuuri tilted his head in mild confusion but, before he could question his situation any further, he heard a noise to his left and turned to find another person stepping into the foyer from a second elevator.

A tall man with silver hair looked out over the entryway, face painted in mild confusion similar to what Yuuri imagined his own probably looked like just seconds ago. The stranger was wearing a grey overcoat, green scarf, and black boots; he seemed to be dressed for cold weather.

Yuuri was about to call out to him when the man turned to look at Yuuri and all his words dried up in his throat. Now that Yuuri had a full view, he was instantly drawn in by the man’s eyes that seemed to glow cerulean in the dim light. Yuuri felt a twinge in the back of his head. Maybe he had a headache coming on.

It wasn’t until the man spoke for the second time that Yuuri realized he had been caught staring. The man’s voice was so smooth that Yuuri wasn’t surprised he missed the first time, though the fact that he couldn’t understand a word of what was said didn’t really help. Was he speaking… Russian?

It was at times like these that Yuuri was grateful he had learned a second language after his Japanese mother tongue. Hoping to find some kind of common ground, Yuuri inquired, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Do you speak English?”

“Ah, yes, I do. I was just asking if you knew where we were.” The man clarified, a Russian accent curling around his words. Yuuri blushed. He didn’t understand why this man was affecting him so much, considering they’d only just met.

Yuuri looked around again. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t recognize the place. Were they in some kind of hotel? Was he meeting with a sponsor? “I actually have no idea. I don’t even know how I got here, to tell you the truth.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?”

“Oh, I don’t mind! My name is Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Yuuri Katsuki.” The man said slowly, turning the name over in a way that was clearly meant to see how it felt on his tongue. Yuuri had to admit that he liked the sound of his name in that smooth, accented voice. The man beamed excitedly. “I love it!”

“Oh, um, thank you.” Yuuri muttered, blushing and looking to his feet. He couldn’t remember acting this way around anyone else before. What was so special about this guy? In an attempt to shift the focus off of himself, Yuuri returned the question. “What’s your name?”

He was immediately worried when the man’s face took on a troubled look. “Well, you see, I really can’t remember. I actually can’t remember anything about myself, only that I’m a figure skater.” He admitted, smiling sheepishly and scratching the back of his head.

Yuuri hesitated. What was he supposed to say to that? It took his mind a second to catch up to the second half of the man’s statement but when it did, his reaction was immediate. “Wait, you’re a figure skater too? So am I! Do you compete?”

“Wow! What a small world! Yes, I skate in Men’s Singles.” The man beamed, happy to have found a common point between the two of them beyond their language and disorientation.

“I also skate in Men’s Singles. I wonder why neither of us recognize each other if we skate in the same profession though?” Yuuri pondered out loud. He decided to go for the only other thing he could think of that might actually get either of them some answers. “Maybe if we head further in, we can find someone and ask where we are.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Yuuri.”

As the man proceeded down the corridor, Yuuri was glad that he didn’t have to take the lead.

The first thing he noticed when he turned the corner was the impressive bar in front of him. Behind it stood a white-haired man dressed in a black suit vest and red bowtie.

As Yuuri surveyed the room for other people, an illuminated tank full of jellyfish and the adjoining room past it caught his attention. It glowed against the dimness of the bar area, a massive chandelier that dripped down from the 3 storey high ceiling casting the hall in violet light. It was beautiful; crystals hung off the frame in strands, rings formed in the silhouette of a jellyfish that gave the room an otherworldly quality.

Yuuri caught himself gawking and reminded himself of his surroundings. As he turned his attention back to the bar, the man behind it began to speak.

“Thank you for coming. Welcome to Quindecim." The bartender greeted, offering them a welcoming bow. "I am your bartender, Decim. Please, if you would like to take a seat?” He gestured at the row of chairs lining the bar with a slight smile.

Yuuri shared a look with the man standing to his left before taking a seat, his companion following suit— the chairs were comfier than they looked.

“Could I get you two something to drink?” Decim asked. Yuuri hesitated.

Clearly, this was a bar. As for why he of all people was here alone, he didn't know. If he was meeting a sponsor (the only plausible reason why he would be in such a place) then Yuuri figured he probably shouldn’t drink. Not that he'd know what to order anyway. He picked the safest option. “Could I have some water?”

Yuuri berated himself the moment the request left his mouth. Who orders _water_ at a _bar_? Before he could revise his order, Decim nodded and turned to the other customer.

“I’ll have a beer, please.” The man requested, catching Yuuri’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. The man turned his head and smiled, making Yuuri blush. He looked back down at the bar as a glass of water on a coaster was placed in front of him.

“Now," Decim announced, "if you don’t mind indulging me, I’d like to ask you a question.”

Yuuri looked up in confusion. He wanted to ask _them_ a question? Before Yuuri or his companion could respond, Decim continued.

“Would you two happen to remember anything from immediately before you came here?”

Now _this_ was a question Yuuri could answer easily. Before he could, however, he was beaten to the punch.

“I remember going out for a walk, but I can’t remember where I was going or what I was doing before that." Yuuri's companion rested his finger on his chin thoughtfully. "It may have been nighttime because it was dark out but I don’t know for sure.”

“I remember going out for a walk when it was dark too, but I feel like I was headed somewhere. I don’t remember where or what for though.” Yuuri supplied, surprised by the similarity of their stories. That did vaguely answer his question of _when_ though, if they were both headed somewhere at night. Hoping that the answers were sufficient, Yuuri took the chance to ask a question of his own. “So, um, can I ask where we are?”

“Thank you very much. I am now about to explain to you what your circumstances are.” Decim said, ignoring the question and continuing on as if the gaps in both of his patron’s memories weren’t anything to be concerned about. “I ask that you please pay close attention.”

Yuuri tensed. Something about this felt off. _Circumstances_? What kind of bar would Yuuri have gone to that involved _circumstances_? At least it looked like they were about to get some answers— or so Yuuri thought.

“One:” Decim started, lifting up a finger, “First of all, I cannot answer the question of where you are.”

Yuuri sighed. Just what had he gotten himself into?

Decim lifted another finger. “Two: I will now have you play a game.”

A “game”? Why did Yuuri have the feeling that it was going to be much more important than _just_ “a game”? Before Yuuri could question it, however, Decim raised a third finger and continued. “Three: I will have you choose the type of game by roulette.”

A bright green board dropped into view behind Decim with startling speed, making Yuuri jump. Okay, something was definitely off. This place wasn’t just a bar, was it? Yuuri was tempted to pull his phone out and text Phichit right away to ask if this was all some kind of dare.

“Four: I will have you stake your lives on the game.”

… Wait, stake their _lives_!?

Yuuri gawked, turning to look to his left. His companion seemed to be just as surprised as Yuuri was, if the man's widened eyes and slightly parted mouth were anything to go by. Yuuri could feel anxiety rising in his gut as the silence following the explanation stretched on.

He needed to get out of there.

“I-I’m going to the washroom!” Yuuri announced, rising from his seat and walking away. There’s no way this place wouldn’t have a washroom… right? Veering off into the large room to the left of the bar, Yuuri noted a promising looking door on the far wall. He rushed towards it, trying not to look too panicked.

Splashing water on his face, Yuuri focused on the coolness in an attempt to ground himself and take the edge off his panic. He dried off with a paper towel and looked at himself in the mirror. He reached into his pants pocket for his phone, deciding that he had to call his best friend.

Not finding his phone in its usual spot, Yuuri patted down the sides of his practice clothes in vain, just in case he had put it somewhere else. He cursed at himself. Of all the times to forget his phone, it _had_ to be now?

Yuuri jumped when he heard the door open, only relaxing when he saw it was the silver-haired man who joined him.

The man immediately put up his hands in a gesture of apology. “Sorry, did I shock you? I suppose you don't know where we are either, huh?”

“No… I really don’t remember anything past going out for a jog." Yuuri admitted. "This situation really doesn’t make any sense though. How did either of us get here if we can’t even remember?” Maybe his companion could shed some light on the inconsistencies that Yuuri obviously wasn’t seeing.

The man returned Yuuri's lost look. Well, so much for that. Yuuri tried another question. “What do you think he meant by ‘staking our lives’ on a ‘game’?”

“Perhaps he meant our livelihoods? I don’t get the feeling that he wants to hurt us… maybe I’m just being too trusting.” He murmured, shrugging and sending Yuuri a nervous smile. Whether it was intended to comfort Yuuri or the man himself, Yuuri couldn't tell. “I think our best option might just be to leave. I seem to have forgotten my phone, but I’m sure we can ask someone outside for directions.”

Yuuri liked this suggestion, so they decided to return to the elevators. Unfortunately, they seemed to be out of order, though they had clearly just been used. After checking the only other door in the large room and a larger double door that was placed above a small set of steps, they turned to look at each other.

Yuuri could feel unease creeping back to him. “I feel like we’ve been set up.”

“I guess we have no real choice but to go along with what he says then.” His companion concluded, looking back to the bar and the person who patiently stood there waiting for their return.

Yuuri gulped and nodded. At least it looked like he could trust this man, if for no other reason than their mutual confusion. They headed back over to the bar. As he seemed to have much more confidence in approaching the bartender than Yuuri did, he left the talking to his companion.

“Before we agree to anything, I’d like to ask you this: is there any way for us to leave without playing this ‘game’?”

The bartender replied immediately and emotionlessly. “No, I cannot allow you to leave the bar until after the game.”

Yuuri hung his head. He questioned again how he had managed to get himself into this situation, only looking back up when Decim slid a large red button onto the bar in front of them. “If you would like to press this, the roulette can begin.”

Yuuri caught the eye of the man still standing beside him. He seemed to be of the same mindset as Yuuri; the faster they got this over with, the faster they could get out of here. They shared a nod.

Yuuri watched as the man reached over and pressed the button. Immediately, the board in front of them came to life, the tiles lighting up randomly before slowing to a stop, the top left square illuminating with a jingle. The tile flipped, revealing the words underneath it.

“Figure skating,” Yuuri read aloud. He wanted to laugh at how fitting it was. There was no way this board, or this bartender whom neither of them had met until today, could have known of their profession. Unless, of course, this really was some kind of setup. That seemed more and more likely as time went on.

Before either of them could react, a deafening boom and sharp light pierced the air, an explosion unraveling the chandeliered room past the bar. Panels of flooring rose from the dust clouds circling the space, giving way to the sparkling surface surging from underneath. With a mechanical thud, it slid into place before them, the coldness of ice emanating from the newly formed rink. As if that weren't flashy enough, Yuuri watched in bewilderment as a scoreboard emerged from behind the panels of the far wall.

Just what _was_ this place?

Yuuri pinched himself. At this point, dreaming was the only rational explanation to any of this. A growing feeling of dread settled into the pit of his stomach when nothing changed. Feeling helpless, Yuuri waited as Decim left the bar to stand before the rink.

“If you’ll allow me, I’ll explain how this will work.” Decim began. “Both of you will take turns skating programs of your choice. It will begin with short programs followed by long ones. You may request any music you like, even if you don’t think we’d have it. Your scores will appear on the scoring board. Lastly, you will be able to find skates and costumes in your sizes in the wardrobe over there.”

Yuuri followed the bartender’s motions as he gestured to the scoring panel and then a wardrobe on a nearby wall that Yuuri hadn’t even noticed. He gawked. The sheer amount of preparation it must have taken to set this all up was astounding.

It would probably be best for his sanity if he stopped questioning everything that happened unless he wanted to get caught in an eternal loop of confusion and shock. Yuuri looked to his companion beside him— his face was painted in a mixture of awe and bafflement.

"Would you mind if I went first?" Turning to Yuuri, the man offered a small, vulnerable smile that left Yuuri at a loss for words. “I have a feeling that I might be able to figure something out if I can get on the ice.”

Yuuri nodded. He had no burning desire to set foot on the ice at the moment and if this man thought he could discover something about himself by going first, then Yuuri would be happy to allow him that. It would also allow Yuuri to see what level of skill this man had, considering this _was_ supposed to be a competition.

“Do you have a program in mind?” Yuuri asked as they approached the wardrobe against the nearby wall. Yuuri wondered how this would even work. Would they just have a variety to choose from? How did Decim even know their sizes?

“I think I have an idea…” The other man replied, pulling the closet doors open.

Yuuri was immediately surprised by the sheer variety of costumes held within; he even recognized quite a few of his own from previous performances. How in the world did these get here? His attention returned to the man beside him, or, more specifically, the garment in his hands as he selected it off the rack.

The costume was made out of a black, velvety fabric, one sleeve crafted from dark mesh that carried into half of the top and in a stripe down one leg. Shard-like crystals adorned the costume's right shoulder and spanned across the v-shaped satin band at its waist, and beneath it, grey to black dyed fabric formed a half-skirt. The half-skirt moved as the man turned the garment around, revealing the fabric's bright red lining.

Yuuri brought his hand to his temple as his head twinged again. The costume felt so familiar and like such a perfect fit for the man holding it. 

Yuuri shook off the feeling. It was probably just similar to a costume he’d seen before. There's definitely a lot of variety in costuming at the international level. Yuuri went to go sit down on a barstool as the other man headed off to change.

Yuuri breathed deeply as he stared over the rink laid out in front of him. The first time he had stepped onto the ice, Minako, his ballet instructor, had insisted he try skating. Even if he couldn’t remember too many details, he could never forget the amazement he felt from seeing such a large open plane of ice spread out in front of him for the first time.

Of course, the first thing he’d done was slip and fall, though what else could be expected the first time a child steps on the ice with nothing to support him but his balance and the blades attached to the soles of his boots? But there was always a feeling of accomplishment when he learned something new, a rush of joy at being able to stand on skates without aid, skate backwards, or do a spin or jump without falling. It quickly became a way he could escape his everyday life.

There were many late nights when he’d run off to the local rink to skate on his own. It wasn’t long until the staff there became familiar enough with him to give him a free pass to skate whenever he liked. Naturally, given the amount of time and effort Yuuri put into polishing his skills, he had eventually signed on with a coach and entered the Novice bracket.

It was then that skating changed. He had always skated to improve himself, but now it was no longer just for _himself_. It became about proving himself to those around him; his coach, his family, his supporters. It felt like he was stepping into another world, one where his performance mattered to more than just the few people who knew him at the local rink. He had to prove that he was worth his coach's time, worth the money his family poured into his sport even as other local onsens went out of business, and worth it to the fans who watched him, whether in person or on TV.

Yuuri hadn’t seen himself as a skater that was worth much notice even as he entered international competition at 11 years old. That didn’t mean he was bad, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a dime-a-dozen skater. He didn't have natural talent like others— Yuuri had to work hard for every step that he took.

So Yuuri was pleasantly surprised when he was approached by Celestino, the Detroit-based coach he currently trained with, during Yuuri’s final year competing in Juniors. It wasn’t that he was unaware of the way international coaches would scout out skaters, but Yuuri had never thought that far into the future. It was decided that he would accept Celestino's offer after he graduated high school and, through the combined monetary efforts of Yuuri’s family and his own winnings, Yuuri moved to Detroit to train when he was 18.

There, he started training harder than ever. Seniors was definitely a step up from Juniors; the programs were longer, more elements were required, and suddenly, quads (something that he was still chasing) became almost a requirement to win. Yuuri met his best friend and roommate, Phichit, a few years later when Phichit moved from Thailand to Detroit to train with Celestino as Yuuri entered Seniors.

The one thing that never changed, even through all the turns Yuuri’s life took, was how calm being on the ice made him feel. Stepping out onto the rink, he could let his body relax and focus on the familiar motions. By now, they were etched into his very soul and they always helped him out of his own head. Even now, in this crazy situation, Yuuri itched to tie his skates and step out onto the inviting ice.

Yuuri looked up to see his companion re-entering the room, now wearing the costume he had picked out. On his feet were black skate boots, with teal and dark blue skate guards that covered– wait, were those _golden_ _blades_?

Something twinged in the back of Yuuri’s mind again. This time, instead of ignoring it, he decided to try focusing on the sensation. Since it didn’t actually _hurt_ , maybe it was trying to tell him something.

Unfortunately his efforts didn’t seem to lead anywhere and Yuuri sighed, turning his attention back to the other skater as he removed his guards and skated onto the ice. He seemed so comfortable there, so _at home_ , and Yuuri felt an instant kinship with him. The man did a few laps around the ice in an obvious attempt to get his skating legs back before he launched into a jump— a quadruple Toe Loop.

Yuuri could feel a deep stirring in his gut as he watched the man land perfectly and continue on as if he hadn’t just performed a move that was on par with Yuuri’s abilities. The development snapped Yuuri to attention— the man was _skilled_. He supposed this wake-up call was a good thing, if the bartender’s words were anything to go by and they would need to compete against each other with their livelihoods on the line.

Obviously warmed up, the man skated over to the edge of the rink a few minutes later, seeming to ask Decim something. His volume was too low for Yuuri to catch, but the bartender nodded and the skater glided to the center of the ice.

He got into a starting position that, like so many of his other actions, made Yuuri’s head twinge. He put a hand to his temple, considering the chance of an oncoming migraine. But when the beginnings of an orchestral piece sounded through the air, something clicked and everything else fell away.

In a rush, Yuuri realized what had been nagging at him from the moment he met that man in the elevator foyer. Not only did Yuuri know the name of the skater performing before him, but he also knew _why_.

This was _the_ Victor Nikiforov, five-time World Champion in the Men’s Singles division… and Yuuri’s childhood idol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can be found over on [Tumblr](http://sachiro.tumblr.com/) so come and give me a shout (or check out one of my Way Too Many metas)! :)


	2. The Beginning of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game begins and turns out to be a lot more familiar than either of them expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand it took me way too long but I'm finally here with chapter 2! I hope everyone enjoys! :)

The first time Yuuri saw Victor skate, his entire world came into focus.

It almost felt like he’d been floating through life aimlessly up until that point. He loved his skating, of course he did, but it never had a _purpose_ before. It never had _direction_.

Seeing the 15 year old boy move so gracefully across the ice at the Junior Worlds Figure Skating Championship, in which he had both taken gold and set a new world record, Yuuri experienced a moment of clarity. It was a moment that he _knew_ would be life changing even as it was happening. He could feel the wonder and the awe in watching Victor skate for the first time and it all sharpened into a single point.

Yuuri knew what he wanted — no, _needed_ — to do.

He needed to meet Victor on the same ice.

\---

That aspiration carried Yuuri into the next chapter of his life.

Seeing Victor skate internationally at an age so close to Yuuri’s own gave him the push he didn’t realize he was missing to finally take the leap into international competition. After talking it over with his parents and coach, he took his first step into the Novice bracket of his competitive figure skating career.

It was like stepping into a whole other world. Yuuri had done local and even national competitions before, but nothing that meant leaving the comfort of his home country. It immediately sunk in that he was advancing to a stage much more vast than he had ever imagined.

Every competition was much more demanding; the judges were harsh and unsympathetic to his mistakes, the crowds became large and imposing, and his practices, in turn, grew in their intensity.

Despite all the new challenges thrown Yuuri’s way, he came out of it all feeling even more determined than before because every day, every competition, every practice that went by was another second closer to meeting Victor in competition.

\---

Yuuri’s idolization of Victor didn’t just serve as a way to keep him motivated during practices and competitions.

In his down time, Yuuri would skate with Yuuko. It became a common pastime for them to sit down and watch through Victor's programs, then try their best to copy every move exactly as they saw it. Every jump, spin, step and choreographed sequence — they would spend hours coaching and critiquing each other into perfect emulations of the movements they saw onscreen.

This reflected onto Yuuri's own skating. He felt like he was imbuing his own style with _something_ , though he was never really able to put words to it. It was almost like his skating wasn’t entirely his own anymore and had become a combination of his own style and Victor’s.

But while Yuuri knew that he would never truly be able to capture Victor’s grace — for that was what made his skating so alluring — if Yuuri could come just that bit closer to that, then he could be content.

\---

It came as a surprise to no one when Victor’s influence began to bleed into Yuuri’s life off the ice as well.

Yuuko had always been a big supporter of Yuuri’s interest in Victor — of course, it helped that she was also a Victor fan — and she would collect magazines that would ultimately always make their way into Yuuri’s possession.

The first magazine that inaugurated Yuuri’s ever-growing collection of Victor memorabilia included an article about Victor’s private life. Yuuri was immediately smitten when he saw an image of his idol with his arms wrapped around a large, fluffy standard poodle. Yuuri had always loved dogs but it wasn’t until he saw Victor’s beaming smile that Yuuri felt such a burning desire to have his own.

A month and many hours of deliberating with his parents later, Yuuri walked out of a pet store with an apricot toy poodle in his arms. His parents had eventually caved and given him permission to get a small dog. Upon going to the store and catching this puppy’s eyes in the window, Yuuri knew he was the one.

Yuuri also knew exactly what to call him.

“His name is Victor.” He told Yuuko and Takeshi who met Yuuri outside of Ice Castle Hasetsu to see his new pet. Takeshi rolled his eyes, as he always did when Victor was mentioned, but Yuuko was delighted.

Laughing in that way she always did whenever Yuuri brought up his idol, she said, “I hope I can see you compete against him soon.”

\---

Vicchan, as Yuuri’s Mother had taken to calling Victor the dog (as opposed to Victor the human), became a major part of Yuuri’s life.

Vicchan came to mean a lot more to Yuuri than he ever could have predicted. He became what Yuuri looked forward to after coming home from school or practice above all else. He became a constant in Yuuri’s life, even as Yuuri’s life changed upon entering Juniors and traveling more frequently for competitions. Vicchan was always there as a grounding stone to welcome Yuuri back with unconditional love and support.

As much as Yuuri enjoyed his skating (even as an escape), not every day was an easy one. But he always had something — some _one_ — to come home to. A best friend who demanded nothing of him other than some attention, a thing which Yuuri gladly gave in spades.

There were times when Yuuri thought back on his reasons for getting Vicchan and was immeasurably thankful to Victor (the skater) because he, through happening to have a dog that he loved, inadvertently brought Yuuri and Vicchan together. That gratitude, in turn, made Yuuri want to meet Victor even more.

So Yuuri continued skating, even as the programs became longer, the elements ramped up in difficulty, and his absences from home became more apparent.

\---

The days seemed to flow into each other and the next thing Yuuri knew, he was approached during a competition by a foreign coach who expressed interest in taking Yuuri on as a student.

Instead of happily going home to enjoy a meal of katsudon with his family — a tradition that predated even his idolization of Victor — Yuuri returned with a burdened mind. He knew that accepting this coach’s offer would mean more than just changing instructors — it would mean moving away from the town he had lived in for his entire life.

He talked with his family and weighed his options. In the end, as he stared up at the collection of Victor posters he’d amassed over the years, Yuuri realized that it was never truly a choice. His goal had never changed — he still needed to meet Victor on the same ice — and if that meant leaving the safety of his hometown and moving to the other side of the globe, then he would do it.

A few months later, with his high school diploma stored away in his room, Yuuri bid goodbye to his family and friends and boarded a plane for Detroit with reignited determination.

\---

That resolve carried Yuuri through the next few years.

Whenever he was feeling down, all he had to do was look at the poster plastered to his dorm room wall. Victor would stare back at him, looking as graceful as ever, and remind Yuuri of his goal — remind Yuuri that he _had_ to make it into Seniors, _had_ to qualify for the Grand Prix Series, and _had_ to skate on the same ice as Victor...

As an _equal_.

He used this burning motivation to power himself through the challenges he faced. And of course, even so far away from home and the support to be found there, he continued to take inspiration from Victor’s skating.

With a clear path to his objective in sight, Yuuri threw himself into his training.

Victor now had 3 quads under his belt and there were rumours of him working on a fourth. If Victor could jump four quads, even if they weren’t all competition-ready yet, then Yuuri knew he could do at least one. He began working on his quad Toe Loop, and when it reached a level of consistency he was happy with, he added a second to his repertoire.

Even though Yuuri’s quad Salchow wasn’t as reliable, he continued to push himself in his off time. Celestino had told him to focus on his spins and step sequences because they were where he shined. Yuuri agreed, of course, but he also knew that without those quads, he’d never be able to truly reach Victor’s level.

Yuuri also knew, in a place at the back of his mind that he often refused to listen to, that with Victor’s age, his time was running out.

\---

The moment Yuuri first landed Victor’s signature quad Flip was one of his most vivid memories.

His best friend Phichit was accompanying him, as he always did when Yuuri confessed to feeling down and they decided to go skate at the rink after-hours. He had been doubting himself (as was a lot more common that he liked to admit) about whether he could actually achieve his goal of meeting Victor.

Yuuri hadn’t come to the rink that night with any kind of particular goal in mind but as he gained speed towards a jump, he felt a spark. Before he knew it, he was launching himself into a Flip with one, two, three, _four_ rotations. It wasn’t until he landed, smoothly transitioned into a glide, and heard the applause from the sideline that Yuuri even realized what he’d done.

Perhaps meeting Victor where he was wouldn’t be such an impossible goal after all.

\---

Before he knew it, five years had passed since he moved to Detroit.

The rumours that Victor was going to retire were increasing by the day. Yuuri, however, was at his all-time best. He had qualified for two Grand Prix Series events and he knew he had a real shot at the Grand Prix Final.

He didn’t get into any of the same qualifying competitions as Victor but that was okay, Yuuri knew that would just motivate him to get to the final even more.

Perhaps then he could really sit down in front of his family on a video call and feel like he earned all the support they showered him with.

And motivated Yuuri was, as he managed to podium in both competitions with silver and bronze medals taking their places around his neck. He knew the next stop would be the Final and Victor.

His goal was in sight; now all he had to do was skate to the best of his ability and meet Victor where he was.

* * *

There was something so familiar about this feeling — this feeling of eyes on him as he skated across freshly cleaned ice, of the music powering his motions, of performing a program that he must have practiced endlessly to hone to perfection.

But _why_?

The costume he wore only added to the mystery. It was black, partially made of mesh, and adorned with crystals. His hand gravitated towards the garment, following the path of his gaze, and he knew instantly what music had to accompany it.

He saw his companion, the dark-haired man he had met in the elevator foyer of this strange bar (if one could even call it one at this point), stand up and gasp something. Was it a name?

He couldn’t tell. All he could hear, all he _wanted_ to hear, was the music flowing through him. It all felt so familiar — so _natural_ — almost like he was born to be here.

One thing he understood for sure, however, was the feeling of security he felt on the ice. It felt as though it welcomed him, embraced him, as he carved unending patterns into its smooth surface.

Even the elements — his jumps and spins — felt like they came to him naturally. He knew, in a distant part of his mind, that he must be quite proficient to be able to perform like this, but at the same time, he still couldn’t remember how he got to that point.

He didn’t let this worry him. He had a feeling deep in his gut that he would figure things out if he continued to listen to his instincts. His body obviously remembered even if his mind didn’t.

So that’s exactly what he did.

There was still something missing however, beyond the gap in his memories. It felt like a weight was absent, and something from another time and place was knocking on the back of his mind.

As the two and a half minute program slowed to a close and he came out of his final spin, he heard, more than saw, the applause around him. He felt the light shining on his head, the sweat pouring down his skin, and it was like his mind had been waiting for all of these stars to align before it unbolted the door to his memories.

And he remembered.

* * *

The first time he had tried ice skating, he was four. His parents had insisted on getting him into a sport early. He realized years later that perhaps this was a way for them get him out of their hair, but that didn’t matter the moment his blades touched the ice.

Of course, the first thing he did was fall, but he didn’t let that deter him. He pushed himself back onto his feet and continued onward like nothing had happened. He felt like the wide expanse of ice was calling to him. He didn’t really know what to do with that feeling, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He continued to skate.

\---

It only took a couple of years before his parents found him a coach on the recommendation of his skating instructors to refine what they called a “diamond waiting to be polished”. What that really translated to was longer hours at the rink, grueling coaching sessions that sometimes left him on his hands and knees, the addition of ballet practice to his repertoire, and a resulting leap in technical improvement.

He tried to make friends with the other kids during his sessions; _tried_ being the key word. He had no idea why they would skate away from him, whisper to each other when he was around, and otherwise avoid him after practice was done. There were times when that made him feel lonely, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

Because he knew that even without the people around him, he would always have his skating.

\---

He first heard the news at age nine when his Mother and coach were talking as he was picked up from practice.

His skating had been noticed by a scout who was now reaching out to him with an offer to skate under a professional coach in far off St. Petersburg. He could see his Mother’s eyes light up when she heard the news and even when his current coach started to talk about the cost, she wasn’t deterred.

He didn’t know too many of the details until later, but what he did know at the time was that this meant he was going to be leaving home.

He wasn’t sad, though. He saw this as a new opportunity. He might be changing schools, changing coaches, even changing _families_ , but that was okay because he could have new friends, new coaches, and a new family.

And the one unchanging thing, no matter where he was or who he was with, was his skating.

\---

He found St. Petersburg to be a lot more welcoming than he expected.

It wasn’t just the town, but the people there too. His new coach, Yakov, was gruff but very good at what he did. He came off as intimidating at first but it was quickly discovered that he cared deeply for his skaters and that worked to soften that first impression.

The other skaters were very friendly as well. They introduced themselves with smiles and handshakes and he wasn’t sure at first how to reciprocate all the attention. Having peers seek him out felt like a novel experience and he quickly grew to enjoy it.

He quickly settled into practice. The new regime was a lot stricter; it required longer hours on the ice, mandatory time in the gym and ballet studio, a set diet plan, and an enforced curfew — all scheduled around the athletics-focused school curriculum he was enrolled in. In the beginning, he found himself returning to his dorm exhausted every night, but soon he began to find comfort in the daily routine.

He found himself slowly drifting away from the friends he made when he arrived. With the amount of time he spent focusing on training and the fact that he tended to choose reading over social contact on his rest days, an inevitable distance was created between himself and his rinkmates.

But he was okay with that. At the end of the day, the one constant he would always have would be his skating.

\---

He was entered into the Novice bracket the next year.

He had competed locally before, but never something on as grand of a scale as international competition. He wasn’t nervous, however. On the contrary, he found himself excited to finally have a stage to show off the skills he had been honing.

He had always loved skating to music. The choreography that was paired with it, the increased technical challenge, and the costumes which he now had a heavier hand in creating all came together to make him feel more complete when on the ice. It allowed him to show off a side of himself that he couldn’t find anywhere else.

He enjoyed telling stories with his skating. He found it came to him easily — putting up a façade to show the audience. He could paint an image for others to see and act it out through his performances.

And he knew he was successful when, at his first international competition, he stood proudly on the second tier of the podium and accepted his silver medal, surrounded by cheers louder than any he had heard before.

\---

When he was 12, Yakov gave him Makkachin.

The moment he saw her, it was like an instant connection sparked into being in a way that he had never experienced before. He fell in love. When she bounded over to him and he sunk his hands into her fluffy brown fur, it was like discovering something he had been desperately missing without knowing he had needed it.

His coach had said something along the lines of “helping with the loneliness” but he didn’t think too hard on it. All he knew was that she was a beautiful standard poodle and he loved everything about her. She would greet him at the door when he got home, lick his face, and make sure he knew he was just as loved in return. He looked forward to returning home to her every night, even if the time he could actually spend with her was shorter than he would have liked.

But she seemed to understand that. She was a smart and friendly dog; she never whined when he had to leave for the day, would go along nicely with the dog walker his coach had hired, ate all the food he gave her without making a mess (even if she kept trying to sneak off with some of his when he turned his back), and provided him with constant companionship by snuggling with him at night while he slept.

She quickly became his best friend.

His time off the ice became filled with almost nothing but her. He was okay with that though, he was happy. His life was filled with the two things he loved the most — his skating and his dog. It was a welcome reward to come home to such a loving friend after each grueling day of school and practice.

When he was able to, he also enjoyed taking her for walks himself. It was like having time to himself to think without the feeling of actually being _alone,_ and for that he was very thankful.

He found that he couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without Makkachin in it.

\---

He realized that he got the warmest reception when skating.

This extended to all areas of his life. His rinkmates would watch with increasingly avid looks when he landed a jump, his coach’s praise would be higher when he managed a new element, and his rapidly growing fanbase would cheer louder the moment he stepped on the ice.

He adored this feeling and reveled in it. He loved skating and was glad that his love of the sport was getting across to everyone else. He felt free when he was on the ice, like the possibilities were infinite, and he strove to push himself further and further.

The first time he jumped (and landed) a quad was when he was 13 years old.

His coach’s reaction went in the following order: shock, awe, and then a lecture. He wasn’t sure why he was getting berated for it, weren’t quads a good thing? They were a new way to push himself, another area in which he could improve. Wasn’t it good that he was getting a head start on them?

But his coach stood firm on the decision that he would not be performing any quads in competition until he was in Seniors. In return, a compromise was made to bring in a special trainer to push his skating even further.

\---

This “special trainer” turned out to be the prima ballerina of the Bolshoi Ballet, Lilia Baranovskaya (who also happened to be Yakov’s wife).

She was a very strict teacher, but he was glad for that. She provided him a challenge in an area he didn’t realize could be improved as much as it was. At first he found himself being worn out from the rigorous exercises but overall he enjoyed it.

But ballet wasn’t the only thing she taught.

She stressed three important life lessons: to be aware of his image, how surprise was fundamental to performance, and that reinventing himself was the key to strength.

The first lesson, being aware of his image, came to him in a flash when he was browsing through social media. Lilia had told him that his image would carry over into everything; his performance, his scores, and most importantly, his off-ice persona. At first he questioned it — why would his image in the media be important to how others viewed his skating? But when he came across a piece of writing that called his off-ice self “beautiful and graceful”, he realized the message Lilia was trying to impart — that there was only one of him. The people outside of his daily life would only see one self, they wouldn’t separate him the same way his coaches or rinkmates could. So, instead of making others reconcile two different images of him, he’d just have to make both of them one and the same.

The next was the element of surprise. He knew from the moment he first heard Lilia mention it that he already understood what she meant. He, as much as anyone else, loved surprises. He loved it when things were fresh, new, unexpected. It was easy to see how this also applied to himself and his skating. He would need to think of new stories to tell and new sides to show every time he set out onto the rink. He found that, more than just understanding, he actually looked forward to it.

It was the third and final lesson that he struggled with the most: reinventing himself. It was a simple conclusion to come to after he understood the first two but he still found it initially quite difficult to put into practice. It would require him to constantly create, painting his entire being in new colours for every new season. But how could he change the perceptions people had already made of him to offer them something new? He decided that this would be his next challenge. He already knew that when he stepped onto the ice, he could become a completely different person and write a story with nothing more than himself and his blades. So applying this to other areas of his life shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Luckily, he had always been good at telling stories.

He started implementing the same acting techniques he used in skating to his daily life. He would smile, and instantly it was easier to communicate— others smiled back and praised him readily where before they might have broken eye contact and scuffled away. He questioned why he had never thought about doing it before.

Reinventing his image to surprise his audience soon became the mantra that underlied all of his skating. Before, his skating had been about expressing some emotion that he was never quite able to pinpoint, but now it felt like it had a focus — a _purpose_.

If he could give to others just a small slice of how complete his own skating made him feel, then he would.

And if that meant putting on a mask each time he stepped onto the ice...

Well, he didn’t see what he had to lose.

\---

He entered Juniors later that same year.

The change from Novice to Juniors wasn’t as bad as he thought. There was a higher technical requirement from his programs but he felt that just allowed him a larger arena to challenge himself in.

His coach still banned him from performing quads in competition, but that didn’t stop him from practicing them. His quad Toe Loop was coming along nicely so he decided to try adding a second: a quad Salchow. This one turned out to be trickier — toe jumps had always seemed to come more naturally for him, but he didn’t let that stop him from working to master it anyway.

The competition became a lot tougher as well. The skaters ranged from his age all the way up to 19 year olds. Some had even gone through puberty, which he was quickly finding to be a huge hindrance to improving as his body began to change and he needed to repeatedly readjust his axis.

But, along with every other obstacle that landed in his way, he didn’t let that deter him. He knew that even when times were hard or challenges were tough, at the end of the day, he would always have his skating to pull him through.

No — at the end of the day, he _was_ his skating.

\---

He didn’t think his life could get any better.

As he skated his way to gold at his final Worlds Championship before entering Seniors at 16 with crystals sparkling on his shoulder and half skirt fluttering from his waist, he realized that it _could_. The orchestral music from his short program still echoed in his mind, merging with the deafening applause. Banners that read “Victor Nikiforov” were strewn across the audience as he bent his head to receive his medal the next day.

He wished that the rest of his life could continue exactly like this.

\---

Victor gasped as he snapped back to the present. He now recognized the costume he was wearing, the music he had skated to, and the program he had just performed. He may have only been 15 the last time he skated it on a public stage but it seemed the muscle memory was much deeper than he gave it credit for if it could even guide him past the gap in his memories.

He took a moment to revel in the familiar sensations — applause surrounding him, sweat pouring down his face, lights shining down brightly upon him. Victor wondered how it was possible for him to forget all of this — especially this feeling that was so natural, like he didn’t belong anywhere but here.

How could he have forgotten something as important as his own identity — especially given that, if memory served, he was pretty much a household name in Men’s figure skating?

Victor decided that he could figure that out later. He finished bowing and turned to leave the ice, glowing in his success and regained sense of self. He remembered who he _was_.

And, as he caught Yuuri's gaze from the side of the rink, Victor realized that he wasn’t the only one who did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to [Ingthing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingthing/works) for betaing this fic and [Nikki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/topcatnikki/pseuds/topcatnikki/works) for giving me feedback along the way! This fic wouldn't be the same without you. <3
> 
> I can also be found on [tumblr](http://sachiro.tumblr.com/) where I write meta and make gifs.
> 
> I'll see you guys in the next instalment!


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